Reckless Maneuvers
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Coda to "Cogenitor" and "First Flight". A. G. Robinson's death reminds Archer that Trip isn't the only one who makes mistakes.


Reckless Maneuvers

By Laura Schiller

Based on: _Enterprise_

Copyright: Paramount

The dark matter nebula was receding from view, its rose-colored clouds fading. Jonathan Archer glanced over his shoulder at T'Pol, whose hands were dancing across her console screen as she recorded the phenomenon. He had just finished telling her about his escapade with Trip and A. G. Robinson. He wondered, as he often did, what she was thinking behind those cool hazel eyes.

He could still hear Forrest shouting at the three of them after their return from the Warp 2 test flight: _Reckless. Irresponsible. What did you think this stunt of yours would accomplish?_ He remembered the Vulcans and their disapproving stares. He remembered Trip, gesturing fiercely, defending the merit of Henry Archer's engine, ready to break rules just to prove that it could fly. He remembered Trip standing at attention, his jaw tight, letting his commanding officer's rage close over his head like ocean waves over a rock.

He remembered his own voice, shouting at Trip only two weeks ago: _You're telling me you did what I would have done? If that's true, I've been setting a lousy example around here. You say you're responsible for the Cogenitor's death? Damn right you are._

"Captain?"

T'Pol, finished with her data, had swiveled her chair and was regarding him with quiet concern. It was the same look she had given him while first introducing the subject of A. G.'s death. Had living on _Enterprise_ taught her to be so compassionate, or had she always been this way?

"I was just thinking … " He made a tiny course correction to avoid looking her in the eye. "D'you think I was too hard on Trip? After the … the Vissian incident, I mean."

"He jeopardized a First Contact." T'Pol's voice was carefully neutral. "He attempted to impose his values on an alien culture, and it led to a person's suicide. You were justified in reprimanding him."

"Reprimanding him, sure. But I … the things I said … I accused him of having Charles' blood on his hands. He didn't _make_ her – it – beam into space."

"That he did not."

Truth be told, it was himself that Jon blamed. He had been the one to formally deny the cogenitor's request for asylum. The look on her face (the female pronoun _would_ creep in despite his efforts; he couldn't call a sentient being "it") would be burned into his memory forever. She had been too young to wear a look of such hopeless resignation. _They won't let me climb mountains,_ she had said. The fact that she had looked like Trip's little sister, except for the Vissian eye ridges, only made Jon feel worse. He felt like one of his ancestors, sacrificing a lamb to the gods of interspecies diplomacy.

"He taught her to read. They watched movies together, for God's sake. That's not a crime."

"Cogenitors make up only three per cent of the Vissian population," T'Pol pointed out. "If he had considered the social and economic aspects - "

"I know. Give them jobs and the birth rate would drop. Their captain explained it all to me." Jon sighed. "That doesn't make it any easier to think of all that potential going to waste."

"I know what you mean. We prize education on Vulcan." That, he sensed, was the closest T'Pol would get to criticizing the Vissians, at least out loud.

After a few minutes of silent flying, in which Jon tried not to remember the exact blue of Charles' eyes, or Trip quietly telling him _You're not responsible_ , T'Pol spoke up again.

"It would do us no harm," she said softly, "To remember, oftener than we do, that vices are sometimes only virtues carried to excess."

"Who said that? Surak?"

"Charles Dickens. I have been reading the book of Terran quotations you lent me."

He hid a small smile, wondering what she'd make of an entire Dickens novel. "What made you think of that one?"

"Commander Tucker has … " Jon guessed that she was struggling for a nonjudgmental word. "Initiative. Isn't that how he earned your respect to begin with?"

"You could say that, yeah." This time, the smile broke out in spite of himself as he remembered Trip snapping at the Vulcans that there was _nothin' wrong_ with that engine he couldn't fix. "When that guy sees a problem, he'll go through hell and high water to solve it."

"You have that in common, Captain,"

The comparison that had enraged him last week only made him shrug. "I guess we do," he said ruefully.

He thought of the schoolboy grin behind A. G. Robinson's helmet as they cut the comm with Forrest and kicked into Warp 2 on their stolen shuttle. He understood how their CO had felt now. Virtues carried to excess, indeed.

When they got back, he'd have to see if Trip was free to watch the latest water polo match. Or maybe he, Jon, would even watch the latest cheesy horror flick on Movie Night.

"Good thing we have you, T'Pol, to keep us in line."

He reached over to pat the back of her chair and grinned at her. She raised one delicate eyebrow in return.

"A daunting endeavor, Captain, but I do my best."


End file.
